


In the Land of Gods and Monsters

by impalaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, High Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaster/pseuds/impalaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a imagine from dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com<br/>Imagine smoking a joint with Dean and having high sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Land of Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> (y/n) = your name  
> Links to songs mentioned:  
> Title Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkgMbiVi_3E  
> Comfortably Numb - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sf3pc-7gfOg  
> Cola - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk554s9Tpus  
> Dean's comment about daddy issues probably-  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H53q4K3D9V0  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJABBmAMXnY  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4uD6o9XxLs

“It feels like we’ve been gone for 82 years!” you groaned, kicking your boots off as you entered the bunker.  


Sam laughed and set his laptop case on the map table in the library. “It’s only been a few weeks, (y/n).”  


“Yeah, well, a few weeks without a half decent shower might as well be 82 years.”  


“How did you survive hunting on your own for so long?” Dean laughed.  


“I was fine until I was spoiled by living here with you two,” You pointed an accusatory finger at each of them. “I’m going to go take a two hour long shower with hot water and actual water pressure. Don’t bother me.”  


With that, you hauled your duffel bag to your en suite bedroom and turned the shower on, waiting until the bathroom was nice and steamy before you stepped in. The stress and muscle tension from the past five hunts washed down the drain. You guys kept finding new cases while you were out, moving from city to city, crappy motel to crappy motel, exactly like when you first started hunting.  


You were right, you realized, scrubbing your favorite shampoo into your hair. You were spoiled. You shrugged to yourself and went under the stream of water to rinse out all the suds.  


When you finished washing, you hopped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around yourself and turned the vent on to suck out all the steam. You rubbed your hair dry enough that it was no longer dripping annoyingly down your back and pulled on a pair of comfy cotton shorts that barely covered your booty and an old AC/DC shirt you had stolen from Dean at some point in time.  


Keeping the vent on and the bathroom door open, you went into your room and started rummaging around in your duffel bag. There was another reason you were so glad to be home. You had bought something special while you were out. Aha! Your fingers encountered cool glass amidst the rough denims and soft flannels of your clothes. You pulled out your new piece, a beautiful hand blown bowl, swirled with different shades of your favorite color. Stuffed into it was a little baggie with a bud in it.  


You smiled to yourself and plopped down on your bed with the piece, grabbing a Bic lighter with a picture of a moustache on it out of your bedside drawer. You packed the bowl, propped yourself up on your pillows and toked. It had been a while since you last smoked, and you had only inhaled for a couple of seconds before you started coughing.  


“Dammit,” you choked out, flinging yourself off the bed to get a glass of water from the bathroom. You calmed your coughing fit with a few tepid gulps of water from the sink. When you had emptied the glass, you refilled it with colder water and brought it with you to your bedroom, setting it on your nightstand.  


Back on your bed, you were about to take another hit when there was a loud knock at your door. Before you could hide your bowl, the door opened to reveal Dean standing in the doorway. “Are you okay in here…?” he trailed off, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he took in your deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression and the glass bowl in your hand. He smirked. “I thought I smelled something. Sammy was convinced it’s a skunk out by the road. I guess college didn’t teach him as much as he thought.” Dean stepped into your room and closed the door behind him.  


You finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m so sorry. I just – The vent – I thought.” You pointed lamely toward the bathroom where the vent was still whirring.  


“Where’d you get it anyway?” Dean asked, looking amused as he crossed his arms and leant against the wall.  


“Remember those potheads who were messing around in that haunted house in Omaha?”  


“You bought weed from those punks?”  


You shrugged, looking abashed. “Yeah. They gave me a discount for saving their asses and told me where I could find a smoke shop for…” you held up your new bowl in explanation.  


“That’s why you were so eager to go on a food run. I thought you were just on the rag or something.”  


“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’ll throw it out.”  


“Don’t throw it out.” Dean strode over to your bed, his smirk widening. “Just share.” He sat down on the edge of your bed and beckoned for the bowl.  


“You’re not mad at me?” you gaped.  


“If you couldn’t tell from my staggering good looks, I’m not Sam. I’m the fun brother.” He shot you a shit-eating grin and beckoned for the bowl again.  


You giggled, relief flooding you. The effects of your first hit were setting in, and you passed Dean the bowl. Dean turned it over in his hands a couple times, examining it with a look of intense concentration. His pride must’ve lost the internal debate he was having, for he finally admitted with an embarrassed frown, “I’ve only ever smoked joints.”  


“Well, you put your finger over the little hole here and light it like this,” you demonstrated with an invisible bowl, “and then breathe in.” Dean was still looking at the bowl. You smirked. “Want me to do it for you?”  


“I can do it!” Dean snapped and grabbed the lighter out of your hand, sparing it and you a curious look due to it moustached design. He took a pretty good hit and coughed all the smoke back out. “Son of a bitch,” he wheezed.  


You handed him the glass from your nightstand, and he downed it. “Don’t worry,” you said, taking the empty glass back from him when he was done, “my first hit was rough too.” You held out your hand for the bowl and Dean handed it to you along with the lighter.  


You passed the time as you passed the bowl back and forth. Dean was lying sideways on your bed, his legs dangling off the side and his arms behind his head. You had your head rested on his stomach, your legs propped on the wall at the head of your bed. Dean was idly playing with your hair, which felt a lot better than you were willing to admit.  


“How ‘bout some music?” you asked after a brief time of comfortable silence.  


“You know I’d never pass up some good tunes.” You felt the vibrations of Dean’s voice through his midriff.  


You reluctantly sat up, a strand of your hair that was woven between Dean’s fingers was gently pulled out of his lax grip. You made your way across your room to the iPod dock you had in the corner. Fumbling with the device, you scrolled through your music. “I usually listen to Lana del Rey when I smoke,” you said over your shoulder.  


“Lena da what?” Dean scoffed.  


“Lana del Rey,” you corrected. “She’s a newer artist. Her music’s kind of dreamy. It’s hard to describe.”  


“You’re supposed to listen to, like, Pink Floyd or something when you get high.”  


“I’ll make a playlist: Lana del Floyd,” you laughed.  


“That sounds terrible,” Dean joined in.  


You quickly made a playlist of all the Lana del Rey and Pink Floyd songs you had on your iPod and hit play before joining Dean back on the bed. He was sitting up, taking another hit, and you sat cross-legged facing him, close enough that your knees were touching.  


Comfortable Numb by Pink Floyd was the first song to play. Dean hummed along, swaying his head back and forth in time to the music. You grinned, happy to see Dean so carefree for once.  


A couple Lana del Rey songs followed, and after listening intently for a few minutes, Dean commented, “Girl’s got some daddy issues doesn’t she?”  


You laughed, “Yeah, kinda.”  


You heard the first chords of Cola, one of your favorites, emanate from the speakers. You smiled until Dean burst out, “Woah, woah! Her pussy tastes like what?”  


“Pepsi cola,” you squeaked, surprised and weirdly turned on by Dean saying the word pussy.  


“But why- They don’t taste – Why would she-?” he stammered.  


“It’s a metaphor,” you, chuckled.  


“What kinda weird ass music do you listen to?” he muttered, shaking his head. He took up his previous position, lying back down and propping his head up on his crossed arms.  


You had never seen him so relaxed. A smile was fixated on his face, even when neither of you were saying anything. The small lines around his eyes were from laughter, not worry. There was a light in his eyes that you hadn’t seen since you first shared a hunt with the brothers years ago. It was a nice sight. You might have to start doing this more often.  


“Are you gonna take a hit or just continue to stare at me?” Dean’s low voice pulled you out of your musings. You blinked and saw him smiling lazily up at you, his head tilted to the side, green eyes fixed on your face. Man, he was beautiful. Dean guffawed, and you reddened, realizing you might’ve said that out loud.  


You went to blaze the bowl when a boldness overtook you, undoubtedly derived from your high and the attractive man currently lounging on your bed, and you had an idea. “Have you ever shotgunned before?” You asked Dean.  


“Like when you poke a hole in a beer can and chug it?” he asked.  


You laughed. “No frat boy, it’s better than that.” You smiled knowingly and took your hit. Then with the smoke still in your mouth, you leaned forward, tilted you head down, and placed your lips over Deans, Spiderman style. He caught on quickly and parted his lips for you. You exhaled slowly, and the smoke from your lungs passed into Dean’s as he inhaled. You pulled back slightly, and allowed Dean to blow the rest of the smoke out. His eyes met yours, looking both shocked and pleased.  


“Wow.” A wide grin stretched across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror. “Can we do that again?  


“I don’t know if there’s any left,” you said sadly.  


“We don’t need it,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly low. He sat up and took your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours a second time. This one was much more heated. Lips still locked with Dean’s, you sat the bowl on your nightstand and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer. You felt Dean’s tongue snake out and run across your lower lip. You parted your lips eagerly, moaning as Dean caressed you tongue with his.  


You took a deep breath through your nose, your head spinning from excitement. This man could kiss. Those plush lips. That tongue! Better than you could’ve ever imagined.  


You tangled your tongue with his, and Dean moaned, sneaking his hands under your baggy t-shirt and pushing it up over your head. He tossing it carelessly to the side, and moaned again, louder, when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. He immediately turned his attention to your breasts, cupping them in his big hands, the rough calluses tantalizing on your soft skin. He squeezed them and made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. You moaned softly and pushed your chest up into Dean’s hands.  


“Someone’s eager,” he smirked at you. But he acquiesced, leaning down to suck on one breast while still caressing the other. He brought his thumb up to roll your nipple and you gasped and ran your fingers through his hair.  


You felt a muffled grunt come from Dean, and noted in the back of your mind that he liked having his hair messed with. You lightly scraped your fingernails against his scalp, and he let out an almost inaudible groan into your supple flesh. He must’ve figured out you were playing with him, because in retaliation he gently scraped his teeth on your nipple and you felt him smile against you when you exclaimed “Oh!”  


He sucked hard and pulled back, watching your breasts bounce appreciatively. He ran his hands up your sides and returned to your lips to kiss you lazily. He looked at you, eyelids at half mast and smiled sluggishly. He started to place kisses and little nips along your jaw until he had made his way up to your ear to suck on the sensitive place just below it. You let out a loud moan against your own volition.  


“So,” Dean whispered huskily, “Does yours taste like Pepsi Cola too?” He nipped your ear, and you shivered pleasantly and leaned forward to whisper back.  


“Even better. It tastes like cherry pie.” You licked the shell of his ear, and it was his turn to repress a shudder.  


He groaned low in his throat and his lips stretched into a feral smile. “My favorite.”  


With no ceremony besides another chaste kiss to your lips, Dean slid down your body, kissing every inch of exposed skin that he could reach. Planting butterfly light kisses just above your shorts, he slipped his fingers into the waistband and slid them down your legs. He met your eyes and cocked an eyebrow at your lack of panties. “Naughty girl,” he chided. “Stealing my shirt and wearing it without any bra or panties.”  


“I’m a bad girl,” you giggled.  


Dean chuckled. “Oh yes, a very bad girl.”  


“Do I need to be punished?” you goaded, wiggling your hips playfully.  


“Oh yes, baby. You need to be punished real good.” Dean blew a cool stream of air onto your soaked center. You squealed and tried to buck your hips, but Dean held them stationary against the bed. He grinned up at you and slowly drug the tip of his tongue up your folds.  


You keened and squirmed as much as he allowed. “Tease!” you accused. “I always imagined that you’d be the kind of lover who got right to business.”  


“You’ve imagined me having sex?” Dean asked, smiling proudly and licking your dripping core.  


“Yes,” you gasped, too far gone to be embarrassed.  


“With you?” he licked you again, flicking your clit with his tongue.  


“Yes!” you arched your back.  


Lick. “How often”  


You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, fisting your comforter between your fingers.  


You jumped when Dean nipped the inside of your thigh and soothed it with his tongue. “How?” lick “often?” He sucked your clit between his lips.  


You groaned. “Whene-ever I touch myself.”  


Dean let out a deep moan and buried his face in your needy pussy. He pulled you impossibly closer by your hips. His tongue was fucking you deeply, his nose bumping your clit, and his stubble scratched lightly against the inside of your thighs. You were keenly aware of each individual sensation, and your mind was reeling with the pleasure of it all. In no time you were on the cusp of orgasm. “Dean. I- I need-“  


“Hmm?” he hummed in response, the vibration shooting right through you. “You groaned loudly, still so close but not quite there. “Dean…” you pleaded again.  


“What do you need baby girl?”  


“M’wanna cum,” you panted.  


“What was that?” Dean grinned, licking another stripe up your folds and circling your clit with his tongue.  


“I need to cum!” you groaned, taking Dean’s short hair between your fingers.  


“One more time. I didn’t quite catch that,” Dean mumbled into your pussy.  


“Let me cum you fucking assbutt!” You thrust your hips up and pushed Dean’s face closer by the back of his head.  


You felt his laughter before he pulled back slightly and said, “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” He thrust two fingers into you and curled them expertly to hit your g-spot, sucking hard on your clit at the same time.  


You cried out as your orgasm hit you, throwing your head back, eyes squeezed shut, arching your back. Your pussy clenched and unclenched around Dean’s fingers. He moaned, licking up all you juices with relish.  


You panted, the pleasure ebbing from your body. Dean was still lazily licking you, until his tongue hit your overly sensitive clit and you jolted. He looked up at you, and you both smiled. He made a show of wiping his mouth, and you laughed. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, and Dean crawled up to meet your awaiting lips. You shoved your tongue into his mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.  


Dean rutted against your thigh, and you felt just how hard he was with need for you. Still kissing him feverishly, you slid your arm between your bodies and rubbed him through his jeans. He bucked his hips at your touch and let out a muffled grunt. Your lips crooked up against his, and you pushed a little harder until you were rewarded with the needy moan you were vying for. You pulled back from his lips to look into his eyes. They were almost all pupil, ringed with a dark forest green. There was restraint in them, allowing you to make the next move, and a pleading look that begged you to. You kissed him again softly and stroked the side of his face, feeling the stubble on his jaw tickle the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes, reveling in your gentle touch. You reached down and popped the button on his jeans, and his eyes opened wide. You smiled at him and slid the zipper down teasingly slow, enjoying the way his breathing sped up. You pushed the soft cotton of his t-shirt up his hips and he ripped it off the rest of the way, throwing it across the room.  


Hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, you started crawling backward down the bed, pulling his Levis down with you. He kicked them the rest of the way off and you threw the pants off the bed to join the mess of clothes already scattered about your room. You took a moment to admire the significant bulge tenting his light blue boxer briefs, and noted with satisfaction that they were dotted with drops of precum. You leant down to mouth his cock through the material. The strained groan Dean let out was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. You finally pulled his underwear down his legs, giving him the relief he needed as his cock sprung free from is confines.  


Your eyes widened fractionally, and you experimentally wrapped your hand around him. “So big,” you crooned, stroking him once.  


“Better than you imagined?” Dean joked.  


“Oh yeah.” You nodded.  


“I’m kind of offended,” he continued, “that you didn’t imagine me as being bigger.”  


“You’re so damn gorgeous, Dean Winchester; I figured there must be some shortcoming.”  


“Nope,” he chuckled. “I’m a goddamned gift.”  


“Perfect inside and out,” you said softly, knowing he’d hear you as you met his eyes.  


His eyebrows furrowed before he cleared his throat and said louder, “So, were you planning on blowing me or were you just going to hold it all day?” You gave a small smile and crawled around Dean to the head of the bed. He looked at you, confused. “I was just kidding, (y/n). You don’t even have to blow me, I just- What are you doing?” You were reaching for the bowl where you had set it on the nightstand.  


“Wanna try something else new?” You turned to him and smiled widely.  


“I thought you said there wasn’t any left.”  


“I can compact it down with my lighter and maybe get another good hit. So?” You raised your eyebrows questioningly.  


“Sure.” You saw Dean’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, to your surprise looking a little nervous.  


“Relaaax,” you purred in his ear, running your hands down his chest, until you felt him loosen up. You leaned over him to place a quick kiss on his lips, but he grabbed both sides of your face in his big hands and deepened it. You pulled back, breathless and smiling. You picked up the lighter and held it up to the bowl, shooting Dean a wink before lighting it. You were right that there was at least one good hit left. You felt the hot smoke slide sinuously down your throat to fill your lungs. Holding it in, you crawled down the bed to put your pursed lips over the head of Dean’s cock. Looking up at him and holding contact with his wide green eyes, you opened your mouth fractionally to take him in, simultaneously letting out a steady cloud of smoke that rose up to surround you as you continued to take more and more of Dean into your mouth. When the last bit of smoke vacated your lungs, you pulled off of Dean, sucking hard and letting go of him with an exaggerated pop.  


You raised your head to look at him expectantly, gauging his reaction. He was silent for a few torturous moments, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he sat up suddenly, taking your face in his hands again, kissing you with everything in him. The passion exuded from Dean Winchester was enough to make you spontaneously combust. You could already feel yourself getting wet again. When you finally parted, both of you taking a deep breath, Dean said, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”  


You laughed, and leaned down to kiss his adorable face again. You trailed a line from his lips to his jaw, nuzzling your smooth cheek against his rough one. “Mmm, I like when you don’t shave,” you giggled.  


Dean let out a low chuckle. “I’ll just throw my razor away, then.”  


“I’ll do it for you,” you mumbled into the soft skin of his neck, sucking lightly at his pulse point. Dean tangled his fingers in your hair, and you felt rather than heard his accompanying moan. Kissing your way up, you sucked harder on the sensitive skin just below his ear. “I want you inside me,” you breathed. Dean gripped your hair tighter, and without any further response, you found yourself on your back with Dean hovering over you.  


“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” The grin he shot you was all teeth. “Are you ready for me, baby girl?” he asked, taking his length in his hand and lining himself up between your legs.  


“I was born ready for you Dean Winchester.” You smiled as you met his eyes. The whites were tinged red from your smoke session, and they still looked groggy with drooped lids, but there was a vitality that made the greens of his irises practically glow, an adrenaline packed look you’d only seen when there was a gun in his hand and blood on his clothes. “I’ve just been waiting on you to decide that you were ready too.”  


You saw Dean’s eyes crinkle, and he leaned down so that his lips were by your ear. “I’ve been ready since I saw you in the back of that 50’s diner fighting two Leviathans on your own while wearing that poodle skirt.”  


You laughed, feeling positively giddy. “Kitchen cleaner. Who knew?”  


Dean chuckled. “So now that we’re both ready…?”  


You smirked up at him. “Give me all you’ve got, Winchester.”  


Running the head of his cock through your folds a couple times to lubricate himself, he entered you with one swift thrust. You both let out long moans, and he gave you a second to adjust, clenching his jaw in concentration. You moved your hips impatiently, and he got the hint.  


He pulled all the way out before thrusting back into you, slow and deep. He did this again and again with languid rolls of his hips against yours.  


You pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, all tongue and bumping teeth and misplaced lips. Needing more, you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels pressing into his pert ass. You started to buck your hips up to match each thrust, but Dean’s hands came down and held them against the bed.  


He continued his torturously slow, but (you’d admit) sensual pace. You whined, “Deeean. Fuck me. Please.”  


He growled, delivering a particularly hard thrust, and said, “You’re not the only one who’s been imagining this. And like hell am I gonna fuck you like some one night stand.”  


Your lips curved up into a small smile, and despite everything, you felt yourself blush. “Mushball,” you murmured affectionately.  


“I’ll show you ‘mushball,’” Dean grinned, lowering himself so that his body was draped over yours, sweat-slicked skin met from ankle to collar bone. “So, are you going to let me make love to you (y/n) (y/l/n)?” Dean whispered in your ear.  


“Yes,” you breathed. Your arms wrapped around Dean’s neck, and you ran one hand through his hair. It spiked a little as your fingers tangled in the short strands.  


Dean began rolling his hips again, and you both moaned at the resumed movement. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, and the little grunts he let out with each thrust made you so glad that you had stopped begging him to fuck you long enough to feel all of this.  


Dean lifted his upper body up, elbows locked and hands braced against the bed, to gain a better momentum. His head was bowed like a defeated man as he thrust his hips into yours again and again and again, but he was anything but. The slight position change allowed Dean to fill you up even more, and you yelled out his name desperately, clawing at his shoulder blades. Dean moaned his approval. “Oh baby girl, I love it when you say my name,” he panted gruffly.  


You were going to reply, but you interrupted yourself with a loud moan when the head of Dean’s cock brushed against your g-spot. Seeking that shot of pleasure again, you arched your back, pushing your hips up. Dean complied to your unspoken wish by rising up onto his knees, taking your hips in his hands, and ramming into you with a bruising force. He did this little swivel with his hips that hit just the right spot each time. Your eyes shot open, your back bowing completely off the bed. The noises tumbling from your mouth were no longer in your control. “Fuck! Yes. Oh god. Yes!”  


“Just ‘Dean’ is okay with me.” His lips twisted into his signature smirk, which - you noted in the back of your mind - was a thousand times sexier than usual in this situation.  


“Dean,” you panted, with no follow up intended. Just his name. Just him. Dean was the only thing that existed to you at this moment. His presence, his name, his body. He consumed you.  


“Louder.” He lifted your hips up off the bed even more. So deep. So full. So close.  


You moaned wantonly, “Dean!”  


“I know you can do better than that, baby.” His words came out strained, his voice unbelievably gruff. He was getting close too. “I want Sammy, Cas, and every other angel up in Heaven and demon in Hell to know you’re mine.”  


“Yours,” you breathed, tasting the word on your tongue. It was sweet. Like cherry pie and Pepsi cola.  


“You know it sweetheart. Come on now. Lemme hear it baby.” Dean brought his thumb down to rub soft circles against your clit.  


“Yours, Dean,” you keened.  


“I don’t believe you.” He pressed a little harder on your clit, never faltering in his rhythm as he practically pummeled your pussy, and you cried out, “Dean!” sure that Sam could hear you now. “I’m yours, Dean. I’m all yours,” you panted.  


“Damn straight,” Dean grunted, leaning down so your feverish skin met once more. “And I’m all yours,” his low voice rumbled next to your ear, “Now cum with me, baby.”  


Your orgasm washed over you like a transition from icy to hot water, radiating outward, every muscle contracting. The pleasure was vocalized in the only way it could be: with a scream. It could’ve been Dean’s name again. Or some expletive. Or a prayer to whomever was controlling the heavens now, thanking them for this exact moment.  


All you knew as you started to finally come down was that Dean echoed you with a growl as your pussy clenched around him, milking him of the orgasm he’d been holding back for an impressive while. Your body began to relax, and you felt the last dregs of Dean’s hot cum shoot out and paint your insides, the first remnants of his orgasm already starting to drip out and down your thighs. A deep thrum of pleasure filled you at the feeling, and Dean moaned loudly and suddenly as his sensitized cock was subjected to your body’s reaction. He pulled out slowly, trying and failing to not make more of a mess on your comforter.  


“Still going or ready for round two?” he laughed.  


“Both,” you grinned.  


“Yeah,” Dean sighed, splaying out next to you on the bed, “We’re definitely going to have to do that again.”  


“Do you mean the sex or smoking pot?”  


Dean’s eyes were lit up when he turned on his side to face you, his shit-eating grin taking up his entire face, “Both.”


End file.
